Rise of the Beast: A Novel (The Patmos Conspiracy Book 1) by M.K. Gilroy Page A

socks were in shreds and his feet were bruised and bleeding. He felt no physical pain, only the psychological pain of failing Jonathan Alexander.
    He chased Pauline for at least five miles—unless she had broken from the path and he missed her. It was nearly impossible to track someone while running as fast as you can. He managed two more shots in her general direction after she bolted. Even as he pulled the trigger each time he knew the bullet would not find its mark due to the dense foliage protecting her as she wound in and out of turns on the wooded path.
    She had stolen from the man and she had escaped him. How could that have happened? His approach shot hit her in the shoulder. Alexander wanted him to take her alive if possible. He heard her cry of pain. He saw the flash of fresh bright blood set against a bright green sports top as he pounded up the path toward her. He saw her fall to her side. He was sure she would be waiting for him, maybe in shock, to secure her capture when he got to the spot. Instead, all he found was her fanny pack, Mr. Alexander’s journal, and her smartphone.
    He immediately sprinted in pursuit. Not wearing shoes didn’t help his speed, but Jules did not think he would have caught her anyway. Not unless she was hurt badly enough to collapse. No way of knowing.
    When he had her dead to sights, she had shifted her body weight down on all fours and bent her head forward. Instead of placing a cartridge into the flesh of her hip and immobilizing her, he came much closer to a kill shot than he planned. If she had dropped any lower to do her treacherous work, he would have spun a bullet in one ear and out the other. That wouldn’t have been good. Mr. Alexander wanted her alive for questioning.
    What to do now was the only question. The small team that accompanied Mr. Alexander wasn’t prepared to launch a hunt through the woods. In Alexander’s estate outside Geneva, the security team kept a small fleet of modified Trimble Gatewing X100 drones in the air as part of their security protocol. He was not sure whether Erich had packed one of the unmanned aerial machines in the hold of the Gulfstream. He should know. But how was he to anticipate needing it for a manhunt? The model was illegal for private use in the US, which probably meant it hadn’t been stowed. Even if Erich did bring it, it would take an hour for him and his copilot, Michael, to arrive at ground zero. That was assuming they could immediately find an available car. The drone had a maximum of forty-five minutes of flight time. At eighty kilometers per hour, it could travel about fifty-three kilometers in the search for Pauline.
    But what if Mr. Alexander’s small team hadn’t traveled with the drone? By calling Erich he would be broadcasting the full extent of his failure, the one thing Mr. Alexander didn’t handle well.
    Jules thought of covering up what had happened. He could just tell Mr. Alexander he had no choice but to kill her. But that would only prolong the inevitable revelation that she had escaped. She wasn’t dead after all. Ultimately he knew only one thing: obedience. Jules sighed, pulled his satellite phone from a hip holster, and called Erich.
    “Yes Jules?”
    “Do we have the Gatewing with us?”
    “We do not. Is there a problem?”
    “Yes there is.”
    He explained the situation to Erich, ended the call, and hit the speed dial for Mr. Alexander. The conversation was short but painful.
    “Bring in help and find her,” were Alexander’s final instructions.
    He would put on shoes, get some equipment from his pack he had hidden near the trailhead, and would start back up the winding path with a high beam flashlight to look for signs of Pauline’s movements.
    Implacable, stoic, and confident, the only time Jules felt the sense of failure he did now was when he got the letter from the Roman Catholic Diocese of Basel, informing him he had not been selected for the Swiss Guard in charge of protecting the Holy